


Broken Shields

by Calcifer0_0



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Violet Evergarden (Anime), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Pining, Sad, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calcifer0_0/pseuds/Calcifer0_0
Summary: A world. A continent. A war. Federation of Kotrov and Republic of Selba are at each other's throats, engaged in a war that won't stop until the other isn't destroyed. Amidst all the chaos is Iven Siber, a twenty years old Selbian nurse whose life is changed when he's thrown headfirst into the world of politics, war and a power that is the cause behind all the turmoil.





	Broken Shields

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original work and isn't a fanfiction. Those listed in the fandoms were only inspiration behind this work in one way or another.

It's been two days since the surviving unit of battalion was brought in. A total of twenty four soldiers, Iven had overheard the commanders talking. Federation army had cracked them thoroughly, setting underground explosives to catch the Republic soldiers unawares. It had dealt a strong blow to their defense, halting the battle before it could even start. Those who somehow lived were abducted for torture and interrogation. Only few of the members of rear unit had survived. 

The school building at the edge of the Shlona town had been vacated for army supplies and backup before the march had begun, now serving as a makeshift haven for survivors. Those who were capable of lending hands in any way were brought along from the town, including Iven, who was working non stop as a medic from last forty eight hours. His mother had served as nurse in Shlona hospital, so he had pretty much grown surrounded by medicines and potions and patients. Due to his keen interest in doctorship, his mother hadn't stopped him for pursuing in the field.

Today was the third day as he was walking to the northernmost wing of the school, where the soldiers were housed. He was to attend the soldier number 408, a substitute for the one he'd been taking care of for last two days, soldier 419, who was now under the care of 408's nurse. What had caused this exchange, he didn't know. Only that one of the commanders had summoned him to his office and without looking up, had assigned him to a different soldier.

It was some one or two hours before the sunrise. His footsteps echoed in the vacant corridor as he inspected the health data of 408 in the dim light, fingers flipping over the pages, brows frowning one moment and rising the other. He had broken two ribs and his right leg during a trench fall, a needle like fissure running across the fibula in his X-ray report. There were chances he'd remain a cripple. But Iven knew it was a medical exaggeration of sorts, as his mother liked to put. There was no fracture that couldn't be healed if it's given proper care. And since the case was pretty recent, things weren't that out of control. Some plans were already running in his minds. Exercises, to be specific. Other major maladies contained a wound by a passing gunshot right above his left eye. He was lucky his eye was spared. Iven mused. Though there was a serious wound on his torso, made by another gunshot. In this round 408 wasn't as lucky. Although the bullet was removed, the wound was severe and needed utter care. 

When he entered the classroom, it was dark, almost, as gray light of dawn was slowly filtering through the gauze windows into the room. There were two rows of beds. Most of the soldiers were sleeping, some covered in bandages, and some literally mummified, one or two of their limbs suspended up. Those who were awake didn't know peace either. A painful moan rouse from somewhere in the room. Iven ignored it and silently made his way to the far end of the room, towards bed number 12. The reason he was here so early was because the soldier required a certain medicine right at the time of his waking. A painkiller he was given three times everyday to ease the pain. He was advised by senior medic to be very punctual in his duties, specially the ones regarding 408's medicines. Like the ones his mother gave him before coming here weren't enough already.

He looked around the room while walking, seeking the clock, and there on the opposite wall it hung, its glass face covered in dust. Iven could make out 4:40 a.m. in the morning after intense looking. He stopped at the side of the bed, and slowly dragged the curtain aside. Then he lodged the water bottle he'd been carrying on the bedside table, and took the bundle of medicines out of the drawer below. He matched their names one by one to the list in the soldier's data by the lantern to see if everything was in correct order and the previous medic had made no mistakes. He'd always liked to be organized. Old habit. And finally he turned to regard the soldier.

His figure was broad, like all of the Republic soldiers. They're fed special steroids like a cow is given hay. One of the ancient rules laid out in Army Laws during the formation of Republic, some five or six hundred years ago. And his face was hidden in a shock of black hair. A patch of bandage covered his left brow. The gunshot brush. His right leg was wholly covered in plaster till his knees. At some hour in the night he must have kicked away the blanket with his good leg because the only thing protecting him from cold was his blue robe. But that didn't hold Iven's eyes for long because there was something else that had already horrified him. The part of robe that covered his torso was painted in dark, and the circle was steadily widening. His wound was profusely bleeding. If he hadn't come here, the soldier would have bled to his death. Iven made a note to inform the senior medic about lessening the dosage of medicines that had heavy side effect of sleep. 

Without any delay Iven reached for the aid box in the drawer and took out fat amounts of cotton. He then soaked a big wad in spirit. His breathing came shallow as he focused on the heavy discharge of blood. The soldier was still unconscious, he realized, more than asleep. In what little light that was present, he undid the lower knot of robe laces at the soldier's side and propped aside that portion of robe to see the blood clad dressing. With precision, he unpeeled the dressing and saw, just above the band of his undergarment, the wound greeting him like a crater emitting blood. Iven pressed the ball of cotton on the wound, which turned red in its lower half in moments. But Iven didn't get to see what occurred next, because his wrist was twisted and brought behind his back, brutally, by a hand he hadn't seen coming. He yelped in pain but it wasn't loud enough to wake anyone up. All he could see was the drawn curtain of neighboring bed which he was now facing. 

‘What are you doing?’ Iven asked with gritted teeth, trying hard to not create any commotion.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ The voice behind asked him back, panting and rough.

‘Saving your life, from the looks of it.’ Iven replied angrily.

‘Wha–’ But then the voice died down with a grunt, followed by a curse, and the grip on his wrist loosened. Iven turned back to see 408 holding the ball of cotton aggressively to his wound, still lying in bed, with a look of registration on his face. He looked feral, with all that hair and sweat on his face. A muscle twitched on his bruised jaw, like he was suppressing a scream. His underwear was too coloured in blood.

‘Let me.’ Iven offered. But 408 swatted at his offering hands carelessly. Iven frowned, and tore open the painkiller for him and poured water in the steel tumbler lingering nearby. The soldier took the medicine and chewed it down like candy, discarding the offered water entirely. Iven shrugged and propped himself against the curtain post. The soldier's hands were shivering due to blood loss as he struggled to hold on to the now completely red cotton. After a long stretch of silence, he finally looked at Iven. His eyes were unsettlingly gray.

‘What are you staring at?’ He asked Iven. 

‘You failing to do anything about your condition.’ Iven replied coolly.

‘And how do I know you are competent for the job? You could be anyone in a medic's uniform, maybe a spy, sent by the enemy to kill me.’ 

‘What makes you doubt my doctorship? And this place is well protected. Why would anyone try to have a mere soldier killed anyway?’ Iven asked, bothered by his foolhardiness.

‘You're pretty young to be an official medic.’ 408 clarified his suspicion and Iven wanted to laugh, had the circumstances been different. He opened his mouth to speak, but the soldier cut him off arrogantly.

‘You don't know me, do you, Iven Siber?’ There was a glint in his eyes as he said it. And Iven's heart skipped a beat for unapparent reasons as he heard him say his name. He must have seen the name batch on the left side of his chest.

‘A soldier with two broken ribs and right leg whom I'm assigned to look after. That's all I need to know.’ Iven responded, unabashed by the dominance this soldier was trying very hard to assert. And reminding him of his downtrodden condition seemed like a good move to maintain the balance on both sides. It was him at Iven's mercy, not the other way around.

‘But just as a precautionary measure, you should know me, since you've been careless enough to not see who you were assigned to.’ 408 said, steadfast in his haughtiness. 

Iven felt his cheeks go hot, because he had been careless about the soldier's name. It didn't really matter enough to require such attention, but by the way this soldier was inclined to highlight his identity, it took him less than a second to realize 408 was a person of significance. Iven straightened his posture and tied his hands behind. This caused the soldier to smirk, and Iven understood the sudden burning feeling in his gut. Hatred. If this 408 wasn't a mess already, and a person of rank serving the Republic, Iven would have taken personal delight in unraveling his entrails knot by knot.

‘Major Gabriel Qivana. Commander of the ninth unit in Republic Army.’ He said. And went silent. Then: ‘Such an undeserving title when you recklessly charge your men straight into the mouth of death and are so unfortunate as to survive. I should have died.’ He announced quietly to the room, not looking at Iven anymore. His grip on the blood soaked cotton loosed and it fell to the floor. He was unconscious again.

Iven bent to pat his cheeks to make sure he was not awake. Then he tested his pulse. Steady. Blood loss wasn't something his body couldn't stand. The steroids inside must have compensated for half of the loss by now by regenerating newer blood cells. He eased a bit and began dressing the wound, which gratefully had stopped bleeding. He cleared the contours of the gaping hole, then dressed it with clean cotton, gauze and bandages. Then with a scissor he cut off his underwear and cleaned his thighs caked with blood. In the lowermost drawer he found a clean pair of robe and underwear. Taking off the bloody underwear wasn't hard, but putting on the newer one was. His plastered leg was a big nuisance in itself. Nudity, though, wasn't. He saw at least one naked person everyday in hospital, even more so since the war had started, sometimes in gruesome ways. Unrecognized bodies being dragged away to either get burnt or buried, always missing a part or two. He had gotten used to it. 

After some hectic ten minutes of putting on the underwear, he moved onto the robe. He scissored it all away and pulled its under side from his slumbering body. Putting on the robe was impossible since it required upper half of his body to be lifted. So Iven tucked him in blanket instead, making sure he didn't disturb any of the smaller yet potent wounds all over his scarred body. By doing that much only had left him mildly exhausted. The previous soldier hadn't demanded as much efforts in both the days combined as Major had in one hour. He figured that's what must have been the reason behind the exchange. They needed someone tolerant enough to deal Major. 

On his way out to the pantry, another classroom remodeled to suit its new name, he checked on the previous soldier too, Ceasar. He was fast asleep with stripes of bandages running all over him. The sun was a suggestion on the horizon, every now and then he'd catch trill of birds as he walked. He was first to be in the pantry as he arrived. Pantry's cook, Lejer, was a middle aged man from Shlona, with a plump belly and hollow face. Iven greeted him as he brought his breakfast. One hard boiled egg. One glass of juice. Two slices with a sheet of cheese. He slowly began to eat while his thoughts ate at him. 

The enmity between Republic and Federation took its root from a quarrel over a mutual piece of land. It lay somewhere upon the border between the two nations. What remarkable thing about that strip of land was that it bore a hotspot, a ravine of sorts, which had emerged from the crust of the earth after a thousand years. That phenomenon was registered in their history books as ‘Emergence.’ After every several centuries later, Emergence had occurred at different places on Earth, and had always been a reason of turmoil for nations, simply because when the calamity was over, leaving some quacks and slides in its wake, the sight of Emergence spat out extremely advantageous element called Emerilium, a namesake of its cause. It was known to be forged into shields that could stand nuclear explosions, so enduring that a whole city could be built with it and it would stand for a lifetime, and one tank alone made from Emerilium could wipe out a whole army of ten thousand strong. Those who held the element held the dominance over others. This time, Emergence had occurred between Federation of Kotrov and Republic of Selba and now each nation was in pursuit to neutralize the other in order to gain the control of the hotspot. An eastern nation who possessed the control of last Emergence hotspot, Giltstate, still persisted, crouching over the lower countries like a ruthless tyrant. It was now time for Selba and Kotrov to shine, and the chance asked for war.

The alarm bell broke him out of his reverie. Iven finished his breakfast and took another plate for Major with add ons like pieces of chopped apple, stripes of meat and a packet of milk. When he came into the classroom, most of the soldiers had woken up, due to the alarm bell. Ceasar saw his walking form and nodded a greeting when Iven met his eyes, but when he kept on walking and stopped only two beds away near the opposite row, Ceasar found himself confused. He wasn't told of the exchange apparently.

Major was wide awake, body draped in blanket, his back leaning against the pillow. He was drinking water when Iven settled his breakfast on the side table.

‘Where's my robe?’ Major asked, frowning.

‘It was wet with blood. I cut it away.’ Iven replied, then added, ‘Sir.’

Major raised a single brow as he combed the hair away from his face with his fingers. Before he could give any output, Iven offered the clean robe.

‘Now that you're awake, let me help you get changed.’

‘I can do it myself.’ Major snatched the robe from his hand. Iven opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, and just stood, watching him.

Of course he was struggling. He couldn't raise his left hand without wincing. When Iven lost his patience, he again offered to help, but Major still denied and growled like a rogue cat at Iven when he tried to say anything more. He couldn't leave him alone like that, much to his dismay, since medics were strictly ordered to tend their respective soldiers, especially when the soldier was of high rank. All he could do was simply obey. 

After what felt like an eternity, Major finally managed to clothe himself in the robe, visibly tired. Iven peeked a glance at his dressing to make sure it wasn't bleeding. The laces were still to be done, and Iven knew better than to offer help. Major covered himself in the blanket again.

‘I brought your breakfast.’ Iven said instead.

‘I saw.’ Major replied as he reached for the plate, and winced again.

‘Would it kill you, Sir, to ask for help?’ Iven found himself saying before he could stop himself.

Major stilled, his eyes seeming to freeze with sudden cold.

‘Mind you tongue, boy.’ He chewed out the words at him. Iven realized this was the first time major had looked at him, actually. Iven regretted his words instantly.

‘Apologies, Major. All I was saying–’ but Major cut him off with a rough ‘Get lost.’ 

Iven pursed his lips and said ‘I'll be around’ as he left.

On his way out, he notified Ceasar of the exchange because the man still looked lost. He'd shrugged and said ‘Guess I'll see you around’ with a smile. When he came back to his room, a grand classroom lined with double decker beds, he found Vilem, a trainee friend from Shlona who had come to assist the senior doctors, was still sleeping. Iven gave his sleeping form an exasperated look and trudged to his bed. He was sound asleep on the upper deck, faintly snoring. Iven flattened his palms by his pillow and resting his chin on them, whispered:

‘Vileeeeeeemmmmm.’ No response came. Iven frowned and snapped loudly at him. ‘Vilem!’ His friend jerk awoke this time, trying to process what had disrupted his sleep. There were lines, literally and of confusion, on his dark face.

‘For the love of Governer act once like a human you swine!’ Blurted Vilem when he realized it was Iven who'd violently woken him up.

‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’ Iven chided. ‘You're sleeping past the limitation and your soldier would be descending into his grave by now.’

This brought some sobriety on his face and he jumped off the bed in a fluid motion, probably running towards the bathroom. Iven rolled his eyes and followed. 

The showers were divided into sections by wooded panels in the bathroom, and all of them were vacant except one, occupied by Vilem. 

‘When did you sleep last night?’ Iven asked, knocking on his door once.

‘Around one. Got busy talking with Bren.’ Came Vilem's voice, accompanied with the patter of shower.

‘Who's Bren?’ Iven inquired.

‘My bed mate? He's reassigned to another soldier and seemed pretty glad about it. Said the previous one was an ass.’ Iven went alert at that. Of course. The shower stopped.

‘Major Gabriel Qivana.’ Iven responded.

‘What?’ Vilem sounded confused.

‘The ass's name. I'm assigned to him instead.’ Iven clarified.

The door instantly opened. Vilem stood, shocked, towel wrapped around the lower half of his body.

‘So you're looking after Bren's patient? And he's a Major?’ Asked Vilem as he came out to face him. Iven nodded. 

‘Bren told me about him, but didn't say he was of rank. You met him?’ 

‘Yes.’ Iven replied, rather annoyed.

‘How did it go?’ Vilem seemed suddenly very amused.

‘What do you expect? Like you mentioned, as ass, through and through.’ 

‘My poor friend.’ Said Vilem, faking sympathy. Iven patted his hand away.

‘I kind of pissed him off though. You know I can't withstand brats.’ Iven told him, seeming bitter with the memory.

‘You didn't! What happened?’ Vilem appeared fully awake now.

‘Nothing. Just said would it kill him to take my help.’ Iven shrugged.

‘Siber you rascal! He's a Major! Next thing you know you'll be getting kicked out of this place and then your scholarship!’ Vilem reminded him of the consequences of messing up with a government official, looking equally horrified and entertained.

‘He won't, if he has any decency. I saved his life.’ Iven replied.

‘I want to know everything in full detail.’ Vilem articulated with excitement as they both went back to the bedroom.

NORTH, Gellan Border.

A figure loomed upon a platform jutting out of the cliff face, unaffected by the sharp sleet that blew down the mountains. He was naked, if lack of clothing defined nakedness. But it wasn't skin that was enduring the harsh winter of North. It was hard, smooth and silver. A body armour of sorts. The helmet it wore didn't have any outer carvings, it hugged the shape of its skull as if it was nothing but silver paint. The figure's eyes were covered in see through glass coins sewn into the helmet itself. It regarded the sheer drop in a calm surveillance, then turned back to the mouth of the cave, built in the belly of the cliff. Several sounds could be heard inside, agonized screams, for one. A layer of its silver armour on its arms moved, melted like wax all the way down and then solidified into two fine blades before touching the ground. They looked like extensions of the figure's hands, those blades. The figure walked and disappeared inside the cave, and the screams within only intensified.


End file.
